


What a Laugh It Would Have Been

by Chash



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Holidays, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-05-04 19:35:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5346071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the prompt: “we’re in a secret relationship and this is our first holiday together but now we just got caught under the mistletoe together and alternatively you got caught beneath the mistletoe with someone else and what do you mean I am not jealous”</p>
            </blockquote>





	What a Laugh It Would Have Been

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Bellarke.com](http://bellarke.com/) advent calendar!

"It's not too late to pretend to be sick," Bellamy says, from Clarke's bed. He's flopped on his back with one arm over his eyes, t-shirt pulled up over his stomach, showing off a strip of firm, tan abs. Clarke's a big fan.

"Yeah, that'll work out really well," she teases. "Definitely the best way to convince everyone nothing is going on with us is both of us bailing on the same party with the same shitty excuse. Your sister would show up at your place just to make sure I wasn't there. And then when I was, she'd murder us for making her leave her own party so she could catch us in the act."

"So you wouldn't be there. She'd think I was really sick and feel bad for doubting us. Problem solved."

She sits down next to him on the bed, carding her hand through his hair. "No way, we're hanging out tonight. I'm flying out in two days, I'm not missing out on boyfriend time just because you're afraid you'll hump my leg in public."

"That's exactly what I'm worried about. It's like you're looking into my soul." He rubs his face. "I'm just saying, there's going to be a ton of booze and formal wear and literally everyone telling me how hot you look and how if I'm not careful someone else is gonna make a move on you before I can. It's a recipe for disaster."

Not telling their friends they were dating had seemed like a great idea at first. It was a great idea, honestly, because Octavia had been trying to set them up for months and they'd been hemming and hawing and putting it off, Clarke because she was recently out of a relationship and Bellamy because he likes winding his sister up.

But then they met totally by chance at a benefit for the museum where Bellamy works, Clarke catching Bellamy's eye because she couldn't help pulling faces during Cage Wallace's speech, which he also clearly hated.

He came over with a drink for her after, and they'd been flirting for ten minutes before they figured out they both knew Octavia, and she'd been trying to set them up, but by that point, well, Clarke had already been fairly charmed.

"We probably shouldn't tell Octavia about this yet," Bellamy told her on their first date, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked unspeakably nervous, and it made Clarke feel very fond of him. Even on the first date, she was pretty gone. "She's going to be so weird about it, I don't think we really need that when we're just getting to know each other."

"Yeah, no," she said, giving him a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, I'm with you. I like to be more invested in my new relationships than my friends are. We'll give it a month and see how it's going."

It probably would have worked out pretty well, except that within three days of that conversation, they found out Clarke's friend Monty's new boyfriend was Bellamy's best friend Miller, which meant their social circles were suddenly integrated, and Octavia got everyone weirdly invested in whether or not the two of them would make a good couple (Yes: Octavia, Jasper, Raven, Miller; No: Wells, Bellamy's asshole friend Murphy; Oh god, who cares, stop asking: Monty, Lincoln), so now it's been two months and their lives have basically spiraled out of their control.

So Clarke can't blame Bellamy for wanting to skip the party. The idea definitely has some appeal, and not just because she's pretty sure like half the reason Octavia decided to have the party in the first place, back in September, was to have an excuse to set up Clarke and Bellamy, and the other half was to prove to her brother that she's a mature, independent adult who can have real, mature, fancy parties. So they're both more than a little terrified of what's going to actually happen when they show up.

"We could just tell them," she offers, a little hesitant. "About us."

Bellamy sighs, and she rubs her fingers against his scalp, hard, the way he likes. He makes a happy noise and leans into it. "I think if we draw attention from her big night, O might actually murder us. But--I was thinking maybe after you get back? Like New Year's? It's gonna be low-key, just hanging out at Miller's bar, and--" He gives her a shy smile. "Honestly, I'm gonna be pretty pissed if I don't get to kiss you at midnight."

Clarke smiles back and leans down to press her lips to his. "You will definitely get to kiss me at midnight."

"Awesome." He sits up and cracks his shoulders. "That still leaves us with the party tonight to deal with."

"It'll be fine. We'll go, we'll hang out with everyone, we'll bicker with each other a little, and then we'll leave separately and you can come over after. It's not like we don't see each other socially."

"Yeah, but you know O has some sort of weird plot, right? She's been dropping hints for weeks. She's going to lock us in a closet or something."

Clarke grins and gets off the bed, heading over to rifle through her own closet for clothes. Putting off getting ready isn't going to make this situation better. "Yeah, but, upside, locked in a closet with your actual girlfriend."

"True," he says, watching her tug her shirt off with unabashed interest. "I just want the record to show that this is going to be a fucking disaster. I'm calling it."

"I say just, like, 50% disaster. Not total disaster, just half."

Bellamy's quiet for a long minute, and his voice is a little off when he says, "Is that what you're wearing?"

"Yeah."

"Total, complete, utter disaster."

She frowns at her reflection in the mirror. It's one of her favorite dresses. "What, you don't like it?"

He wraps his arms around her and nuzzles her neck. "No, I definitely like it," he says, grinning at her. "Big fan."

Clarke laughs and shoves him gently. "You know we're going to this thing separately, right?"

"Yeah."

"And you still aren't dressed?"

"Yup."

"And you have to go home and get changed and make it over there before seven or your sister will murder you?"

"Yup."

"So you need to stop checking me out and go."

"You lost me."

Clarke gives him a kiss and then pushes him firmly out of her bedroom. "See you in an hour, Bellamy."

"Fucking disaster," he says, gives her one final kiss, and then he's gone.

Less than two weeks til New Year's. She can't wait to tell everyone the stupid dork is hers.

*

"Oh my god, my brother is going to die," says Octavia, by way of greeting.

"Are you only just realizing this? We're all going to die, Octavia. Unless science figures out how to put our brains into cyborgs, which I'm pretty sure Bellamy would do in half a second. So maybe your brother isn't going to die. He'll just be half-robot."

"God, just shut up and take the compliment, okay? You look hot. Now tell me I look hot, then come in and get a drink."

Clarke laughs and gives her a hug. "Thanks, I do look hot. And you do too. The house looks great."

Octavia beams. "Right? Suck it, adulthood. I'm nailing this."

It's Octavia's first Christmas living in the house she owns with her husband, and a lot of people, Bellamy included, told her she was moving too fast, between getting married and buying her own place directly after graduating from college. This party is definitely her fuck you, I’m doing awesome bash.

And, Clarke can't deny that it looks like she's doing very well. She and Lincoln bought a giant wreck of a house that they cleaned out and remodeled themselves, and the holiday party is the first time they're really showing it off. It's scrubbed and polished and bursting with holly and ivy and evergreen and fairy lights.

It's gorgeous.

"I'm thinking I could do party planning on the side," Octavia says, watching with pride as Clarke takes everything in. "People wish they were as awesome at this as I am."

"People wish they're as awesome at everything as you are," Clarke says, fond.

"Flatterer. Okay, go! Mingle! Drink! Have fun! It's a party. I expect you to have an amazing time, take a bunch of selfies, and drunkenly tell me I'm the best."

"I'll tell you that when I'm sober. But you're right, it is a party. I should find booze."

Bellamy shows up twenty minutes later, wearing a suit, which Clarke hasn't seen since the benefit where she met him, and she didn't really know him then, and she suddenly understands his feelings on what she's wearing. She tends to prefer women in formal wear to men, but--well, she prefers Bellamy to pretty much everyone else, and he cleans up very well.

"Don't you look nice," she says, tugging on his lapel with a smile. "I didn't know you owned anything this formal."

"Mugged a rich guy on my way over," he says, smiling at her. "Hey, Clarke. Having fun?"

"Yeah, it's pretty good. Your sister says you're going to die, by the way. I think you're gonna get your consciousness put into a robot instead."

"Jesus, what do you guys talk about when I'm not around?"

"Normal stuff."

He snorts. "Clearly. Do you need more alcohol? I need more alcohol. Come on, let's find drinks."

They also find Monty and Miller, on the grounds that it's more subtle to be hanging out together if they're also hanging out with other people, but the look Monty and Miller exchange suggests that Monty has, perhaps, gotten on the Clarke and Bellamy should date train. But at least that means they haven't noticed Clarke and Bellamy are already dating. So that's something.

The first time mistletoe happens, Clarke and Miller are picking up drink refills. Octavia bounces by, says, "You guys are under the mistletoe!" and then bounces off again. When drunk, Octavia only has two modes: bouncing and mostly unconscious.

"There's mistletoe?" Clarke asks, looking up, and sure enough, there's a sprig hanging over them, hidden among a bunch of holly. 

"Can't say I'm surprised," Miller says. "Octavia's thorough. If it's a Christmas-related plant, she's got it." He raises his eyebrows at her, and when she inclines her head in assent, he leans down and presses his lips against hers for a brief, friendly peck. His beard tickles a little, and she makes a face, but it’s still kind of nice. Mistletoe’s fun, honestly.

"Overcome with holiday affection?" Bellamy asks, mild, when Clarke hands him his drink.

"Your sister put up mistletoe," she says. "You better watch out."

"Nah, mistletoe is perfect," he says, glancing around the room. "Where's Wells? I've been trying to figure out how to make my move."

"Raven will have something to say about that." He opens his mouth to protest, and before he can, she says, "Don't tell me you're not afraid of Raven. We all know you're afraid of Raven. Everyone's afraid of Raven."

Monty and Miller exchange a look, and she belatedly realizes that acting like she can read Bellamy's mind isn't the best way to keep people from thinking there's something going on with them.

"Anyway, I'm getting some of those weird fancy sausage things Lincoln made. You guys want anything?"

She runs into Raven on the way over, and Wells points out, with amusement, that they're under mistletoe again, so Raven dips her low and gives her a classic, old Hollywood kiss, all ridiculous, swooping theatricality that has Clarke giggling more than kissing back.

"Come on, that was game!" Raven says, grinning.

"So much game. Use it on Wells, I just want snacks."

After two more kisses, she finally realizes that it's part of an actual plot, instead of just her friends having fun. And it's a shockingly good plot, honestly. Even when Clarke is looking for the mistletoe, she has trouble spotting it, and then suddenly she's caught under a sprig with Murphy or Anya or Octavia.

"Is your sister actually magic?" she asks, after a surprisingly deep and awesome kiss from Jasper's girlfriend Maya. Good job, Jasper.

"Based on what?" he asks, sounding a little grumpy. Not that she blames him, exactly. Octavia's scheme seems to involve everyone but Bellamy kissing her, probably in an attempt to make him jealous. He knows he has nothing to be jealous of, obviously, but--well, Clarke hates not being able to touch him, too, and she's not the one who has to watch everyone else kiss him.

"I'm actively trying to spot the mistletoe, and I'm still getting stuck under it," she grumbles. "This is some Harry Potter shit. It's like it's following me."

That gets him smiling. "Yeah, yeah," he says. "Must be so tough, everyone wanting to make out with you."

"We all have our burdens to bear," she agrees, with a heavy sigh. "Having fun?"

"I could be drunker." He finishes his drink in one impressive swallow. "I'm going back in, you need anything?"

"I'm good, thanks."

She watches him go with an absent kind of appreciation, tipsy enough to stare a little. She has a hot boyfriend who can really wear a suit; it's the best. And in a couple weeks, he'll stop having to feel jealous that other people are kissing her as part of an unnecessary scheme to hook them up. That’s gonna be great.

"I don't get it," Wells remarks, startling her out of her admiration. "You clearly like him."

"Yeah, he's cool," Clarke says, smiling. "What's wrong with liking him?"

"It just seems stupid to not date him out of spite. I know you like doing things out of spite, but not dating a guy who'd be great for you is a lot. Just suck it up and admit that you want to date him."

She squints at him. "When did you decide he'd be great for me? Last I heard, you thought we'd murder each other. I thought you were on my side."

"I decided that when I remembered I'm on your side," he says, cryptic. Except not, really, because even if she and Bellamy aren't openly dating, she doesn't know how to hide everything, and it's clear how comfortable she is with him, how much she likes him. Of course Wells noticed. He's her best friend. 

"I'm not missing out on anything because of spite," she promises. "We're good."

"I tried," Wells mutters, which makes no sense until she sees Roma sidle up next to Bellamy at the snack table.

Clarke likes Roma. She's smart and sarcastic and gorgeous, which makes her exactly Bellamy's type, so it makes sense they used to date. And Clarke doesn't care about that, most of the time. She's not really the jealous type. If she thinks someone she's dating would rather be with someone else, she'll stop dating them, and she knows Bellamy has no interest in anyone but her. But Bellamy is (as far as Roma knows) single and unattached and still Bellamy, and Clarke can't blame her for flirting sometimes. Bellamy flirts back in the easy, absent way he flirts with everyone, once he'd talked to Clarke about it and made sure she didn't mind.

So, yeah, she's not threatened by Roma at all, but it's still like watching a slow-motion trainwreck, because of course Octavia bounces by and points out mistletoe, and Bellamy looks up, and Roma grins, and Clarke sees the split second of hesitation, the way Bellamy's eyes dart to her, just briefly, but--of course he's going to do it. It's what he's supposed to do. She wants him to do it. 

But she also really, really doesn't.

Roma tugs on his lapels, light and teasing, and Clarke's fingers itch with the desire to be the one doing that. Bellamy leans in, and she can see that he's just pressing his lips against hers, chaste, but Roma's hand comes up around the back of his neck, and she clearly wants to really kiss him.

It's not even fair of Clarke to be jealous. She's kissed like ten people tonight, and Bellamy's just been annoyed he's not one of them, not upset. But Clarke never dated any of the people she'd kissed, and none of them tried to make it into anything more than a joke. And Bellamy--well, he doesn't have any reason to not make out with Roma, not that anyone knows about. So she's helping, in a way.

She's already halfway to them when Bellamy pulls back, and she can see him stuttering an explanation, see Roma's fond amusement. It'll make her feel better, when she has the brainpower to think about it; there was clearly a plan, and Roma was clearly in on it.

But in that exact moment, all she can do is grab his lapels herself and yank him down for a kiss of her own.

He laughs softly against her mouth, but she can feel the way he relaxes into it, sliding his hands around her waist, kissing her back slow and easy, apparently not caring in the least that everyone can see. She moves her hands up from his suit to around his neck, pressing in close.

If they're doing this, they might as well do it right. And it's honestly--it's such a fucking relief.

"I told you they were already dating," Raven says, triumphant, after Clarke doesn't know how long, and the spell breaks. The total absurdity of the situation, of how easily she got played, hits her, and she finds herself giggling.

"This could be the first--" Wells starts, but Clarke rests her face against Bellamy's neck as she laughs, and he presses a kiss to her hair. "Yeah, never mind, you were right, they're already dating. At least they're just ridiculous, not ridiculous and stupid."

"I think we might be ridiculous and stupid," Bellamy murmurs, low and just for Clarke. "Octavia doesn't look pissed, at least."

"Yeah?"

"It looks like Lincoln is paying her, she's pretty pumped. So, yeah, we got set up. Or you did. I was playing it cool." His thumb strokes against her side, and his nose brushes her hair. "Are you ever going to come out from hiding in my neck so our friends can make fun of us like we deserve?"

"Probably not."

"Good plan. You couldn't have waited two weeks?"

She breathes in the familiar scent of him, cologne and alcohol and something deeper, something that makes her feel warm and safe. It's not a smell that's unique to him, but it's his now, something that reminds her of him whenever she catches a whiff of it.

"No," she admits. "I really couldn't have."

He tugs her in closer. "Good. Neither could I."


End file.
